


Cold hearts

by Holszka



Series: Lord Commander [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: British Empire, Dimension Travel, Gen, Lord Potter, Lord-Commander, Parallel Universes, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26282566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holszka/pseuds/Holszka
Summary: Lord-Commander found himself in a very particular situation. There were no Potters in Wizengamot and his land was without its subjects. What to do now?
Series: Lord Commander [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909663
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter one

**I**

A cobblestoned small buildings adored the whole Diagon Alley. The colorful, glittering windows displayed spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons. The whole street was laid with old, uneven pavement, where witches and wizards were going around in medieval robes and fucking pointed hats, looking like a true character from some muggle fairy tales. The vendors called about their goods, trying to catch the interest of a crowd of wizards and witches, making random colorful shapes with their wands, that run wild around their stalls, accompanied by children's laughter.

 _Offensive_ , was the first thing that crossed Harry's mind when he looked around. With utter disbelief, he examined the magical district and lack of anything grander than the cursed Gringotts, which was disrespectful in itself. What happened to the modern buildings with high arches and delicate carvings? Where were the neat and clean gardens of the Queen, the magical Flea Market which easily took the space from Westminster to Camden on festivals, but during normal days at least had few stalls on Diagon. Harry only in portraits of the 16th century saw something so… medieval. Not since the Great Rebuilding Days has the magical side of London looked so meek and ugly. It was supposed to be the most modern and advanced capital of all time - the true pearl of Imperium. Not some old, shady street that looked like the time stopped here.

He could feel his magic raging inside him and he was so tempted to release it and destroy this, whatever this was because for hell it wasn't his capital. Whatever happened here, Harry was quite sure somehow he was not there where he was supposed to be. If not for the muggle advancement outside, he would think that somehow he found himself in not his time, but that would be impossible as in medieval times muggles didn't yet discover electricity or means of transport other than the horses. He cursed under his breath and went directly to the magical bank.

*

_(Then)_

"We were waiting for you, Lord-Commander," said Vester Plundell, the Captain of the Salamander. It was the true beauty of new advancement and old magic. The galleon was built for the old type with wooden dark carved with the strongest of runes, having iron cannons with magic-infused cannonballs, enormous foremast, and mainmast, and following two slightly smaller lateen-rigged mizzen masts. On the beak carved was the deadly siren with the unearthly beauty and if Harry would be a lesser man, he would just submit to the power of the enchantment.

"Is the ship ready for departing, Captain Plundell?" He asked, looking at the man. Ser Vester Plundell was not the most interesting man. He gained his position only thanks to family connections, as the Plundell family was closely related to the Lancester House through the marriage of the current heir with the firstborn daughter of Delmar Plundell. Not the smartest move for the Lancester political position as Plundells were their vassals, but as far as Harry heard, it was a love-match, which didn't happen too often in higher families. Harry could respect that.

"In half an hour we will be ready to depart, sir" answered Vester, letting Harry pass on the ladder to the ship. As Harry was walking, he could see soldiers in their uniforms walking around, working. Some were already at the stations, getting the ship ready to sail and others still secured goods and reserves for the way.

"I'll bring you to your rooms, Lord-Commander"

*

_(Now)_

Stepping inside the goblin's bank was an interesting experience. Usually, Harry would be greeted with the respect commanded by his station with the most insincere words and feelings the director of Gringott could muster at the time. It was always a great game with wizard-goblin relations of how far you could push and insult the other without declaring another war. In Harry's opinion, the goblins were the small greedy fuckers and got perfectly what they deserved. Four unsuccessful Rebellions should have taught them that clearly by common fighting using an army was not an answer to their problems, but as far as Harry didn't like them, he could respect their will to fight and consistency. In a way, Harry thought it must have been a result of the deep saturation of Old Magics, as they tend to live in the truly deep parts of Earth. There were even stories, or maybe myths, that they encountered the Titans of Old.

Harry stood behind two wizards in the queue, waiting for his turn. Such an experience for him, as usually he comes directly to his Manager or decides everything with his Accountant, which in turn passes everything to the bank.

"I'd love to visit Potter Family Vault" stated Harry when it was his turn. He could see how the goblin's eyes sparked but said nothing. He rings twice before the other, slightly younger goblin in formal clothes, asks him to go after him. Harry without a word followed him, amused. He could see what outcome the goblins wanted. They would never notify the Aurors or other Wizardry Legal Offices, but they would manage on their own with potential scammers. Whatever Harry could think about the goblins in the privacy of his mind, he knew that their security system was superb. Not many things could truly pass through them and if they did, one way or another they met their end with either the ugly courses or beast stored at the bottom of the bank.

The golden cart took him to the deep part of the Gringott, once only going through Thief's Downfall and only the cold logic kept Harry in his cart to not blast courses at the creature. How dare they even suggest that he, Lord Potter, the Lord-Commander would… Harry silently pushed his magic inside him, not letting himself to show any emotions as the cart stopped. He easily climbed out of it on the ground, standing before the entrance with some mixed feelings. From the beginning, he knew something was so very wrong as London looked like a joke, but feeling his own family magic so similar and yet so different to what he was used to, hit him like a ton of bricks.

The magic resonated easily, accepting him as the Potter, opening the gate and letting him pass inside. In the corner of his eye, he could see the calculating glint of the goblin, but ignored him, entering his vault. The gate closed behind him, letting him have some privacy.

It was different, he could feel it in the air. So similar and yet so different. There were various items inside, some old furniture, useless artifacts, and everything that was not too important to various family members. Noone would truly leave anything that important in goblins bank, but still, it holds a share of the Potter goods. There was no dust, as the magic took care of that, but Harry could feel it. Few years passed since the last Potter was here, as the magic greedily probed and mixed with his own, slowly replenishing itself and draining him slowly of energy. He was certainly not amused by that, but also it was important to always power up the wards to their maximum power for its effectiveness.

The first thing was the change of clothes as he had enough of his transfigured robes. He found the right closet which held the most similar clothes he saw outside. He put on linen, a high collared shirt with some delicate embroidery and long sleeves; long, dark navy breeches, the same color vest with a silver watch tucked inside a small pocket and coat which displayed proudly the crest of his house. On that, he found the perfect dark outdoor robe-coat with bloody red inside and few hidden pockets. He looked in the mirror. Sharp features showing his Potter ancestry, wild dark hair, and jaded, green eyes, the only feature he gained from his mother. He scowled, seeing his bloody father in the reflection, wanting to break it with his own fist.

Hastily he fastened his high military shoes with silver buckles, not looking back at his own image. His rings were still there - his ancestry signet with dark ruby stating his claim on his left ring finger, the small ring of his position on his left pinky, and his own father's wedding ring on his right ring finger.

"Accio" muttered Harry under his breath and in a second a small, leather pouch found itself in his hand. He gathered some gold inside and hid it inside his robes. That would be enough for what he needed as he planned to visit the Main House.

He slowly went back, looking around for anything he could forget, and soon enough his keen senses told him that he should visit one of the Fund Vaults. He entered a small chamber full of money, is probably the Trust Vaults prepared for young members still in their schooling. His eyes caught the golden snitch flying around the gold. He caught it easily and as his fingers touched it, it changed into the letter, revealing the very known to Harry magic. For one second he stood rooted to the ground, afraid to even breathe as the last of his father's magic disappeared. His magic tried to reach it, subconsciously trying to once again regain their bond.

_"Father! Father! DAD! Nooooooooo!"_

A shiver ran through his body and he shook his head, opening the envelope.

_Dear Harry_

_If you read it, it means I'm not there anymore. I can only hope your mother survived and is there with you. She was so against the idea to write this kind of letter, that I hope you're not alone._

_Forgive me for not being there for you. Forgive this old man for not being there where you were growing up. I'd give everything in my power to be there, but sadly we can't change Fate as we please._

~~_Maybe I should fortify the House, but you are so small and wards are to thirsty and I'm not…_ ~~

_I love you, my son, my Harry. From the moment of your creation to the end of my own, I help so helplessly in love with you, my son. Remember it at all times, that even if I'm not there with you anymore, you're not alone, I'm always with you, my little boy._

_Be whoever you want to be. Be brave. Be scared. Be boring. Be creative. Be wizard. Be muggle. Hell, even be Dark Lord if you please, I'll always be proud of you and your choices. I know you will do marvelous things and never let yourself be stopped by anyone._

_You are my son, the son of Marauder, and the son of the Potter, be yourself and never let someone make you ashamed of who you are and who you want to be._

_I love you, Harry, and hope not to see you too son. Firstly give the world some more Potters, it desperately needs us._

_Your dad,_

_James Potter_

It took him a minute to register tears going down his face. He just looked at the familiar sign of his father's writing, feeling the raging storm of his emotions inside him. The magic was thick inside the chamber and Harry wanted to scream. He was crying and it wasn't even his own father!

"Stupid, old sentimental fool!" he thought to himself, trying to stop the flow of tears. James Potter was always such a pain in the ass, that could drive Harry crazy in two seconds top. Especially as he went and died, leaving him with his harpy of a wife.

Now Harry had two questions - where the fuck he was and who the fuck he needed to kill?

*

_(Then)_

The Salamander ride was smooth. The ship went through the waves easily, using the wind and power of magic. The crew managed the galleon easily under the clear instructions of Captain Plundell.

Harry sat in his room at the desk, writing the necessary letters. He needed to inform the Queen of the moves on the Asian continent as the Russian became bolder. Clearly Tsar didn't learn the last lesson, but Harry was very ready to give him another one. He sealed the wax with his ring, adding few spells for security. He opened one of the windows of his cabin and for a second he got lost in the view of the never-ending ocean. The water was silent, just reflecting the light of the setting sun. Harry could hear the business of the brig, as the crew was maintaining the ship.

He whistled, making one step back, and waited. In a few minutes, the beautiful dark-colored eagle flew inside, stopping on the desk.

"Bring this to Her Majesty and only to her" Ordered Harry, hiding the letter with magic inside the feathers of his messenger. Imperial Eagles were one of the most feared messengers, as they would do everything in their power to give their message to the address and fought with such menace that they often were compared to mother dragons. The bird just looked at him with too intelligent eyes and flew outside.

*

_(Then)_

"LORD-COMMANDER!" The Sonorus scream told him that something was wrong and a few seconds later he felt the ship shook. With the wand in his hand, he ran upstairs. On the way, he could see the soldiers and crew loading the cannons. The ship shook again and he almost lost his footing, but by last change caught the rope on the wall, making himself steady. With gritted teeth he went on the bridge, assessing the situation.

The main mast was on fire and hovering over the second one was the bloody Ironbelly and right after him red Fireball. In the far back, he could see two ships getting ready to board. They didn't have any battle-ready beast on the ship as they were going under the East Tea Company and not Imperial one, which meant they had to kill the bloody dragons by themselves. If Harry could catch the beast by magic, squad zero and two should be able to kill them, but...

"INCOMING! INCOMING! INCOMING!"

Harry could see as the flock of the cannonballs went their ways. His magic roared.

"PROTEGO MAXIMA"

The whole world exploded.

*

_(Now)_

The Uberquell was the land solemnly belonging to the Potters. It was in the hands of Harry's family for generations, even when few of the kings tried to take it away, and later it was legally bestowed upon them by King Henry IV. A simple attempt to please the Potters at the time and gain their allegiance in the coming wars. It was not a smart move as the king only secured their loyalty to themselves and not any of his kin, which later caused a lot of problems to the kings of England.

It was situated in the Scottish Highlands, squeezed between Sutherland and Caithness, on unplottable land being only magical until the Imperial edict of mixing, where for the first time since the 17th century, it opened itself to non-magical folks.

Harry loved his realm with all his heart. He had so many fond memories of running or flying around the highlands, taking jumps from the high cliffs, and just getting lost in the meadows. The magic of this place always makes Harry's head swing, as Uberquell was situated on the crossing of the ley lines, making the land rich with primal magic and, in consequence, the perfect sanctuary to all the magical plants and animals.

Since he apparated just before the wards, Harry had a really bad feeling, but he also was not a child anymore. He took a deep breath and stepped inside. A chill ran down his spine, as he felt the broken chain. The hundred of years strong wards were broken, the strong chain keeping Uberquell hidden and safe was just lying lifeless. Without any thought, Harry apparated to the main city. The buildings were broken too, there were no people, no citizens. The grand street and buildings were no more, just ghosts left. He could feel the truly foul magic, which was deeply rooted in the core of the land, slowly destroying it from the inside.

"Not fucking happening" growled Harry under his breath. He apparated once more, this time to the Main House. He fell to his knees, looking with horror at the destroyed manor. Harry has never truly believed it could happen. Uberquell was always indestructible to him as a child, with so many wards and enchantments. To ever conquer it, Harry even dreaded to think, what foul creatures had to be involved.

He could smell the ozone and foul odor of sulfur. The main gate was broken, blown to pieces, the trees were destroyed, leaving just black corpses. The east wing was not there anymore, leaving an open wound in the house, letting everything inside without a thought. Harry could feel how the land bleed and the wards, which ratted slowly, trembling and crawling to him, recognizing the magic. There was only one choice here as Harry refused for Uberquell to ever be like this.

He stood, going by the alley to the main entrance. The door was blown up, leaving a big hole. Inside there were brick, dust, and thorns inside of the house, which didn't survive the attack. He could feel on himself the eyes of the few portraits which apparently survived the slaughter. With head high, he moved past the main hall to the back garden, where ritual stones should be situated. The wards sparked and cracked, crawling after him, not letting him out of their sight. He could feel in the back the slow rise, the last power they had, getting ready to enslave him and his magic.

The garden was burned down to the ground, nothing left, only the circle of his most ancient ancestors was spared. In the center of it stood tall the oak with the white, pure leaves.

Harry widened his eyes, never ever dreaming to see it in his lifetime.

"Human sacrifice" he whispered to himself. He slowly, cautiously went to the trunk of the tree, entering the ritualistic circle, feeling how the wards halted at the border. It was one of the most ancient enchantments ever created, one spell still remembered from the world of Old. The ultimate shield, that could be used against even the darkest of the creatures from Beyond. Nothing could go against it and nowadays it only existed in old myths and fairy tales, as in known history no one used it, and here it stood. The purest of the magic.

With horrified eyes, Harry looked at the trunk, where he could see the carved face of a man. He had sharp features of Potter and clearly must have been the Head of House to use this kind of magic. Was this his father?

Harry so very slowly unraveled his magic and poked lightly at the trunk. For a second nothing happened and then the wooden eyes opened, revealing the very human eyes.

"Do not let them pass!"

_Storm._

_"We will not perish"_

_Thunder._

_"They have come!"_

_Screams_

_"We have to hold them!"_

_Sulfur._

_"I love you, my son."_

_Death._

_"Fleamont Potter was no more."_


	2. Chapter two

**II**

_(Then)_

He woke up with no strength. His magic was still there, but so very faint, barely there. He felt weak, couldn't even lift his hand up, or checking of his surrounding with his magic. He couldn't even feel - was he on land or maybe still drifting on the water?

He was so very tired.

*

_(Now)_

There was prodding, touching, and choking. The broken wards tore into him without any regard. They greedily took everything they could, drinking from his magic and stealing his energy, not ever stopping. It peeled him one by one, taking everything, shattering his core to million pieces, and still taking more with no remorse.

*

_(Then)_

He didn't know how long it was before Harry woke up again, but this time he could move. He slowly rolled on his stomach, feeling and seeing the sand, and slowly the noise of water reached his ears. With some difficulty, he stood up only to fall again on his ass. He grunted, feeling ringing in his ears, and white spots danced before his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, trying to not lose himself again to darkness. He was not safe here, wherever he was.

He didn't know how long it took him, maybe a few minutes or even a few hours, but finally, he felt like himself. His body was sore and his magic felt raw, like the muscle which he used constantly for two days without any rest. He could feel it under his fingers, the very low spark, but slowly and steadily growing. He always healed fast, thanks to his magical power.

He stood up again, this time way slower. A shiver ran down his spine, as the sea wind danced over his skin. He looked down, seeing his torn uniform, which was showing half his torso. So very slowly he recalled his wand from a dimensional pocket in his right hand, concentrating on a simple transfiguration. It took him longer than he liked it, but finally, the material started to stitch itself, once again being the barrier between elements.

He looked around himself. He was on the beach with no people in sight. There was a forest behind his back and in the far back, he could see the start of the muggle street. So he was close to some kind of human settlement. He needed to get to the capital the fastest way possible, but he didn't dare to just use apparition. In his current condition, he would probably splinch himself. The Queen was probably already informed about the situation with the Russians and the attack on the East Tea Company wouldn't go without any retribution. Trying to kill one of her Lord-Commanders and Lord of Wizengamot House, would also be a key factor to start an army strategic placement. The war was browsing, that much Harry knew and he wanted to be on the first front to show this fucking idiots why no-one dared to fight with British Imperium.

He took a deep breath and when he spotted the sand in a small rock, he concentrated on the right movement. In a few seconds, a dark-colored horse appeared before him. He climbed up his back, slowly riding to the street. Finding the city was easy, too easy. It was only twenty minutes from the beach he found himself in and judging by the advancement, it wasn't any important town. It had just a few streets of normal family houses and one bigger institution of government. Harry was used to way more advanced buildings and nowadays it was rather hard to find a city without any magic-muggle mix. It was unsetting and ringed all the warning bells inside Harry's head.

When he saw a man in muggle clothes on the street, he went overzealous. He tore inside man's mind without any regard, shattering him to pieces, going for the information he needed.

Robert Mallbert was a fifty-eight-year-old muggle working as a teacher in a nearby school. He was an ordinary man, a widower, and had one daughter. He lived in a small village all his life and as far as he has known, there was no longer British Imperium, as it has been destroyed years back and put together in the form of the United Kingdom. That chilled Harry to his very bone as he looked through man's memories, trying to find anything related to magic. Everyone, even the most back-wards villages left to themselves during Great Rebuilding Days has been informed about magic and the new union between Wizards and Muggles. To not know about this was to be too stupid or too blind to that knowledge and yet...

"United Kingdoms? What's a stupid name" he snorted to himself, leaving the lifeless body fall back behind him. He needed to get to London and find the first magic settlement on his way.

*

_(Now)_

He woke up with a gasp, breathing hard. His body hurt. His eyes hurt. His very being hurt. He tried to recall his magic, but it just made the pain worse and dark spots danced before his eyes.

"Master should rest more"

He could feel something was stroking his core, so very gently putting it back into his being with a feeling of regret. It tried to heal what it tore, restoring the balance it upset. Slowly, so very slowly and gently it coaxed the magic into becoming once more.

He groaned. He felt like something just destroyed him like a mirror into a million pieces and then restored it by muggle means, putting all the puzzles together one by one. His headache was enormous and his body felt raw like something peeled him to the very bone.

"Master should rest more" he heard the screeching voice, making him almost jump. He looked fast to his right, trying to muster any energy left in him, to be ready for an attack, but it only made the ache worse and he grunted hard, feeling the pain going through him.

"Master should not use magic now," said the creature, and only one thing could respond like that to him. The house-elf was standing close to his bed, wearing simple dark clothes. It was definitely male with short ears and a rather sticky nose. Harry could see how the creature was projecting the worry and the newly formed bond between him and house-elf throbbed with anxiety. House-elves never took good to their masters to be hurt in any way.

"What…" he coughed hard, finding it extremely hard to even form a sentence. The house-elf pushed glass with cold liquid in his hand and Harry without even any thought, drank it greedily. He could feel it going down his throat, bringing instant relief. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to focus on that feeling and ignoring the ever-present pain. He opened it again, slowly assessing his situation. He was lying on the bed in a chamber. He once again looked to his right, command in his eyes.

"Me is Malpy" the creature introduced itself. "There is few of us left, Master. We stayed as we is bound to house"

Harry nodded in understanding. House-elves couldn't leave as they were bound to the Main House and only the Head of House could free them, but even then they would probably stay. They needed bonds to live, even before humans enslaved them to their will, they lived in a symbiotic relationship with the forest or any other magical place, taking care of it in exchange for the magic. Now, that Harry restored the wards, they once again gained the purpose - to take care of the Master.

*

It took him a lot of time before he truly recovered from the attack on his magic. He knew that wards needed it, but he could die if it was not for his vast amount of magic. Any other wizard would be probably sucked dry. They almost killed him, taking everything from his very being to try to heal itself and the breach. Harry wasn't too full of himself to think that he restored all the ancient wards - they just needed to repair the broken chain and he almost paid with his life to do that.

The curious thing with magic was that it could do impossible things that no-one would even think it was possible. Harry didn't think that making the wards whole again would mean that the whole Uberquell land would restore itself. The foul stench of forbidden magic was purified, the ghosts in the city put to eternal rest, and whatever left the land after the chain was broken, was recalled back, once again becoming the sole sanctuary to most magical creatures.

The Main House also was put back together. The fallen walls and destroyed floors magically repaired themselves, the thorn fabric and tapestries were stitched back, and once Harry could walk again, he was impressed as it looked exactly the same as he remembered it. It had two wings and on the outside looked like it had only two floors, but on the inside, it was made bigger and the west side, where was put library, it reached even five floors and deep into the Earth was located the mausoleum in which Potters stored a lot of magical artifacts as they didn't believe in-ground burial. They were always put back into magic after death only with few exceptions. One of which stood proudly in the garden. Harry walked by the back garden, known as Regena Garden's like the witch, one of his ancestors, collected all the plants she knew at the time to plant them here for her own amusement. Her husband thought nothing of it, thinking of it as one of the woman's whim, and only later in time, their descents which dabbed in potions and healing arts saw what a gold egg their Grandma left them.

The roots and seeds must have survived deep into the ground or had left enough of the trail for the magic to be grown again, as the garden once more was full of life with colorful flowers and a lot of colorful birds and butterflies. The ancient circle, left in the ground by his Gaelic ancestors, once more was hidden in the tall grass, looking innocent. Harry stood before the white-pure oak, deep in his thoughts. The only thing that was truly known about this magic was that it needed a human sacrifice to be activated and it lasted millennia. He knew that purification of his land was made only possible due to this tree. He could do it himself by ritualistic cleansing, but it would take him a lot of time and energy, and the stench would still be there, not even saying about the ghost and possible wraiths in the town. Harry was curious if now, as the _Last Defence_ as it was named in stories, became one with the wards of if it stood separately. Either way, he knew, that this time whatever foul magic enemy could throw at them, nothing could get past the wards again.

"Thank you for your sacrifice, Grandfather."

*

It was different, walking the halls of his, and yet not his family. There was no step-mother insight or pampered, obnoxious younger brother and his latest conquest or any other familiar face living in the house. His own floor was empty of his personal items and instead, he found the room of his father. He hastily slammed the door back, not being ready to deal with that emotional baggage.

The only other living creatures in the house were house-elves. Five of them to be precise - three males and two females. Malpy was the oldest of them all, probably the son of the Head House-Elf before the slaughter, but still relatively young in terms of his kind. Harry knew that it was just a matter of time and stabilizing their situation and there would be more of them, as the females' Cookie and Cracker were not relatives of the males and when they would feel safe and there would be plenty of magic, then that would be the perfect time for reproduction. In that matter, House-Elves were more similar to animals than wizards, which also advocated why they were put into the classification system. If it weren't for them as they slowly started to do all the chores to maintain the manor, he would think he's living inside the mausoleum.

When he was not resting in his room, which once again he took on the third floor, he was trying to wrap his mind about possibilities that happened to bring him here, wherever _here_ really was. He couldn't really think about what exactly happened to him. He knew that _Salamander_ was attacked and only thanks to his magic he somehow survived, waking up on the shore without anyone else. It was entirely possible that he was the sole survivor as he had a vast amount of magic energy and if not for that, he would probably either be burned alive by a cannonball or drown in the ocean. The question was - was he attacked by enemies of the Crown, which wanted to silence him so he would not give away vital information he gained, or was that just an attack on East Tea Company? Possibilities were endless and normally he would investigate the whole matter with Interpol and crush whatever opposition tried to kill him. Here he hasn't had this luxury, wherever _here_ really was. He was not in his own country and dare he say it - his own world?

The scientists always debated about the possibility of other dimensions so similar to their own and yet so different. Endless world, where one choice opened a whole new way. Was it possible that here, because British Imperium was no more, it changed everything? He didn't really have any information about that and he knew that any way possible to get back was probably closed to him. He never was interested in the theory of Magic and to get back, to find or even create a new way to his homeworld, he would need a perfect understanding of various studies, which would probably take him years to master or even his whole lifetime; and that for sure wasn't a way how he wanted to spend his life. He chased already after one shadow in his life and he still wasn't even close to reaching his father's level. That was enough of it.

He sat silently in the solar connected to his own sleeping room. It wasn't too big with a wall full of windows on the south side, making the room bright all day. On the left side was the mahogany desk equipped with ink and parchment, and other various things in the drawer. In the middle, before the stone fireplace, was the wooden table with eight chairs, and on the right corner, close to the door was a comfy chair, which Harry occupied. He flickered his magic between his fingers, finally feeling enough of it to manifest it without any sweat. It took him months to reach the level when casting one of the simplest spells didn't send him into bed for a few days.

During that time he slowly learned about the world and its inner workings. Having House-Elves at his call was a huge help, as they could move around wizarding society without raising too many eyebrows as that was how high families did their matters.

*

He sat by his desk, various newspapers lie before him, as he was trying to understand the whole situation. For a few months, he had to stay inside his manor to get healthy. He was reading a lot of history books and old newspapers, be it muggle or magical. His own education at Imperial Academy and later in the University of High Arts and Command was the mixture of magical and muggle, the best of two words combined. He couldn't really understand the whole Statue of Secrecy which happened in the 17th century and since then magical folk fully went into hiding. It sounded absurd to him as they shared one planet and oftentimes New Blood popped into existence in muggles. That apparently didn't stop wizards and Harry would be even intrigued about that path they took if they didn't stagnate themselves. Since the edict was passed, apparently wizards and witches decided that it was perfectly fine not to develop and progress. There were still some new discoveries and inventions, but with each century the number became smaller and smaller, and that just made Harry's blood boil. How could they allow magic to become this old and barbaric archetype? Didn't they know that progress was what brought prosperity to all of them?

He wanted to scoff at their mindset as he was reading the reports of Wizengamot sessions. He needed to double-check if he really was reading the script of the government body because it sounded like some kind of fairy tale. _Segregation of Werewolves. Second citizen classification of vampires and squibs. De-legalization of muggle-hunting. Classification of dark and light magic._ To name a few and Harry couldn't even wrap his head about all of it. They slowly alienated all of their citizens only leaving old families in power and Harry wasn't stupid enough to say it was better in Imperium, but that was done behind the closed door and still, all the communities had their representatives and enough votes to be annoying power in sessions. In Imperium you could be the New Bloods, but if you had enough power and cunning, you could reach very far, which proved some Riddle bastard in the early 50s, taking the whole Imperium by storm and easily assessing his position as Prime Minister under his muggle father's name. It was such a scandal that the press and old families had to dig deeply into his bloodline to find any evidence he was of magical descent. Even when they proved him to be connected to the Slytherin line, he stayed by his muggle name, becoming an idol for a lot of New Bloods and Half-Bloods.

Here apparently wizards were too stupid to realize how much potential they just would lose by degradation and alienation of New Bloods or any other races. That was just absurd as Harry saw first-hand how dangerous and powerful could be Wolves Squads, as they tore into their enemies without any remorse. Careful studies proved that even one werewolf in the squad could increase the power of the whole group even by fifty percent. He saw it by his own eyes in his father's guard. His father often picked up strays, but never did they stay for long as James Potter never liked anyone to challenge his authority. Often times strong werewolves were alphas and that tended to not mesh too well with powerful wizards in commanding positions, but since Remus Lupin joined, his father's power nearly doubled, as he became the alpha of his own squad thanks to the wolf. Since then many dreaded Marauders names, his father's personal squad. ("Such idiotic name," scoffed Harry to himself).

There were many things about the workings of this new world he found simply idiotic. They had a lot of Dark Lords, usually, one per century, sometimes even more as shown in Grindelwald and later in Voldemort, only a few decades apart. They always popped up even in Imperium, but usually, they were very fast assimilated in the chain of command or simply killed, because there could be only one in power and the Crown didn't like to share. With Grindelwald Harry could sympathize as he wreaked havoc on the Old Continent, trying to unite it and go out of shadow wizards cast on themselves. It was truly a shame he didn't succeed and was defeated by Dumbledore.

The second one was a much bigger joke to Harry. You-Know-Who. Were they for real? What foul even came with that? Voldemort wasn't much better and what would french New Blood really want to accomplish in Britain? The newspaper gossiped that he was the descendant of great Salazar Slytherin and Harry wasn't too sure of that. Who would be stupid enough to champion Old Blood rights of higher families under an alias and not an old family name? The war, as named in newspapers, wasn't too long, but Harry could see the number of casualties, and ironically, almost all of them were somehow related to old families and only a few of the killed were New Bloods. What was the point of fighting for higher families when you kill almost all of their heirs?

The cherry on top was the downfall of Voldemort. Killed by the mere baby as the killing curse rebounded. He wanted to laugh at his father, the bastard got himself killed by some wannabe Dark Lord. What a load of bullshit. He seethed as he saw the new title Harry Potter gained - _the Boy-Who-Lived_. Harry wanted to find the bastard who named him as such and kill him with a painful death. Didn't they know that names had power? For so carelessly giving it to the baby, they sealed his fate to whatever destiny had in store for him. It didn't end there, the articles and even some books were released about the life of Harry Potter, of his adventures and noble character. He wanted to set them on fire, who gave them the right to use his name around? Where were the lawyers and guardians of Harry Potter?

That actually was the question Harry asked himself. What happened to the young child, which looking at the year he found himself in, should be around eight years old. Who was raising him and letting the public slander Potter's name? No allies of his family would stand by it, no pureblood house would let for that political leverage to be gone out of their hands. That begged the question, with whom was his younger self left as his supposed god-father was found guilty of his parents' deaths? That actually was one thing Harry had a true problem to believe in, as he knew Sirius Black as the soulmate of his father. His father met Sirius even before Academy as they were both heirs to their prestigious family and often met during formal gatherings. They quickly fall in platonic love with each other and since that day, they took the world together by storm. There was never one without the other, even when his father was taking his wedding vows, Sirius was the witness. He was always the big presence in their home, easily outshining his bland cousin. Even in death, they were together, as Sirius would never let his father go somewhere he couldn't follow. Apparently not everything was the same, even as fixed points as Harry believed them to be.

He needed to find the child as he had a feeling he wasn't in a place he was supposed to be. In his life, Harry had only one goal and that was to ensure Potter's continuity of prospect and glory as they always had. In this world there were no more Potters, no one held his family votes in the Wizengamot, there was no living soul in Uberquell and he didn't like that at all. Potters lost a lot during the last three decades, but Harry always loved challenges.

*

There were a lot of things he needed to do. One of them was taking an alias as the changing of the name was not entirely possible for him. In the wizarding world, it was not an easy fit, as the magic of the Name was the sacred one and the most secure. That's why no one could truly claim the name of the family long extinct if they did not fulfill the specific requirements. It happened during history for the extinct name to pop up again in New Blood, as they showed the signs; but a wizard or witch could never claim something that's not theirs as names had the power of Old, and trying to take someone's identity was simply almost impossible.

One thing that wizards invented to somehow bypass it, was the Polyjuice potion. The only known and safe way to assume someone else's identity for a short period of time. It lets the person for a few minutes claim the name and not become the thief in magic's eyes. The other thing, more common and safe, were adoptions and oaths. It gave the expected result, but you could always trace what was before the claiming. The other, more known in pureblood circle way was the balance and claiming of the names already given.

He was named firstly Harol by his father on his name's day. He welcomed magic as it and later, to protect his identity, he was granted Harry James Potter by his ancestors. There was also another, special name, which was given to him as a right of god-parent. Sirius named him Herakles per the tradition of his house and even if Harry wasn't his successor, as that place took Sirius's own younger brother, Harry had a claim to the name.

He would forever be Harold and Harry James Potter, as to lose that he would need to disinherit himself from his lineage and parents, and only by that name someone could ever trap him, but for the public eye, he could claim Herakles. The Second-Given name was simple enough to switch without leaving the trace, as in the magic's eyes he was given it by his chosen parent.

Yet becoming Herakles Potter had its own downfall. The names had always power and taking it, it would bring in him Black characteristics he didn't have before. Claiming the Second-Given name would make Sirius his parent on par with James or Lily, and as his mother was also New Blood, that would push her too far back and Harry wouldn't be too surprised if he would register as Sirius and James child from now on. He wasn't really bothered by it. He would always be Lily's child, but he didn't really have any feelings regarding her. He didn't really know her, as she died pretty early in his life. He was simply too young to remember her and growing up, he didn't ask about her too often, as he could see his father love her dearly and it pained him to talk about her. Harry couldn't mourn her as his father did, because how could you mourn someone you had never had a chance to know? It couldn't also last too long - James Potter was a pureblood Lord of Ancient House, so he couldn't let himself close off as some commoners would do. When Harry was seven, he remarried to the harpy, and soon after she bore him another son, Harry's younger brother - the ever-demanding shit, Dracon. It wasn't that his father forgot of his existence when his brother was born, he still spent time with him and was never neglected, but still, toddlers took their parents' time; and soon after Harry was sent to the Imperial Academy, which he took as a personal attack and since then, they have never repaired their relationship.

"And then the stupid fucker died!"


End file.
